I see, I see, her beauty flee, but kind hearted she stays.
Though she is weak, she finds the strength to smile in all her ways.
Beautifully made, entwined with fragile, silky petals. Covered with the Father’s blood, for she is very special.
In a vase they kept her, to remind them of their lover, to remind them of the memories, the memories of their endeavor.
By time, her petals start to fall, though they never fall together,
Even if the rose dies… its meaning, stays forever…
– Mary Pacis Feb. 27 213 [5:30 PM]